Unexpected Experinces
by MagnaEsquire
Summary: After settling down at Baker St. Hugh and Holmes are forced to experience each others past.
1. Chapter 1

I would like to apologize to VHunter for not publishing this sooner. I admit to some laziness and forgetfulness. Also I filters problems, loss of internet and a car accident. Mostly laziness. I plan to to repeat this in future.

* * *

Chapter One

Sherlock Holmes peered over the edge of his book at the boy before him. Hugh Ibuka Holmes had taken up residence in Baker Street ever since the news of his being unable to return to his own universe had been made known. He seemed to adjust fairly well to a new life, new school, and new friends. Much better than would be expected under such devastating circumstances. Yet Holmes could sense that something was still amiss. He watched the boy as he rushed about the flat preparing for school.

"Hugh, I need to speak with you on a subject of some importance."

Hugh hesitated, he was still holding on the back that was now balanced on his leg as he tried to zip up pack. Finishing he placed it by his feet and waited.

Holmes rose from his chair by the unused fireplace, methodically placed a marker in his book and laid it aside. Never having had many opportunities to deal with children, he was somewhat unsure how exactly to proceed.

"Hugh, I have noticed that you've seemed somewhat...distracted, of late. You, don't seem quite yourself. Is...Is everything well with you?"

Hugh hesitated again, his chest burned. Telling Holmes what was on his mind made him uncomfortable.

"I-I'm not sure myself. It seems as through the past is weighing down on me."

Holmes cleared his throat, quite unsure how to respond to that. "Would you...care to discuss it?"

"I don't think I can."

Hugh picked up his backpack and held it for a moment like he was looking for support by just hugging the pack.

"I have enough trouble... Try to keep busy enough that I can't think about it. Sometimes I can't sleep. I can't even eat at time. I've barely eaten in the last few days."

Hugh chuckled mournfully, "It's just goes to show I'm a Holmes."

Holmes did his utmost to ignore the unintentional barb.

"Well...if you need to...if there's anything you wish..." He sighed. Why did communication suddenly seem so difficult?

"If you require anything from me, you need not hesitate to ask."

Hugh's voice was hush, "Thank you, Mr. Holmes."

"You're quite welcome....now you best be off. We wouldn't want you to be late."

Hugh picked up the pack and left without saying a word.

* * *

It was surprisingly quiet for a power plant. Hugh had been to only one other in the past and it was rather loud in comparison. Students gathered a large glass cylindrical dome; inside a stack glowed as it emitted sparks.

"…main components are inside in the stack…" The engineer continued his explanation.

Hugh was taking notes when a small hand reached around and forced an object into his hand holding the notebook. Not looking to see who it was he unfolded the note, laying it across the open notebook.

_Sunday at 6pm._

_Deidre_

Hugh read the note and then examined it to the best of his ability. The slant, baseline, margins, spacing, pressure, size of the writing, the zones, connecting strokes, the size and placement of the signature. Deidre's note showed under the message emotion towards the future event in question. It was no secret to him that Deidre found him attractive. He was just so surprised that she might make it clear so soon.

Hugh followed the group unconsciously as they walked past the dome. Jolted back to reality by his suddenly bumping into the dome and the sudden shock of electricity passing threw his body. The lights went out and Hugh collapsed. For a minute he laid there in the darkness before he managed to gather his things and stand. He walked back to where the class was huddled in the darkness.

Minutes later the lights went on the engineer announced to the teacher and class the field trip was over due to problems with one of the generators.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two

Even before the incident with the dome Hugh hadn't felt very good. He felt uncomfortable breathing and in his chest. When using the boys restroom at school his face was flushed and skin pale. He began to feel as though there was weight in his chest. Deidre came to him after the field trip ended and told him his hands where cold. Now as he closed up Baker Street his head hurt and felt disoriented.

Hugh making it the front door hauled himself up the steps to 211 B. unlocking the door he entered, hoping maybe Holmes off on a case he headed towards his room.

-------------------------------------------------

No such luck.

Holmes stood before the computer screen, attempting to master that confounded synthetic instrument which he'd purchased to replace his violin. A poorer imitation was never created. The sound of the locking mechanisms in the front door interrupted his scrapings. Instead of turning round, he derived the identity of the intruder by the reflection in the shiny handle of his musical contraption. He dropped the instrument and turned toward the pale faced, shivering child that entered.

"Hugh, what ever is the matter? You look as though you're ill? What happened?"

"It's not that bad. A little rest will do won..." the statement was followed by coughing.

"Perhaps we should summon a physician, that cough sounds rather detrimental."

Hugh was going to protest a doctor coming but he just didn't really care all the much. Instead he took off his pack and laid to out of the way to the side.

Holmes took that as an affirmation of his assessment. He made his way to the vid-phone and attempted to locate a suitable doctor. He had no idea whom should be called as he'd never previously required one.

"First time I've seen you lost."

Hugh walked over looking at the screen.

Holmes laughed quietly in spite of the circumstances.

"Allow me to assure you that it will most certainly not be the last. But you are correct in your deduction. Have you any possible suggestions?"

"I'm afraid I'm as lost as you. The only doctors I know is Doctor Littin from hospital where we first met and the doctors who examined me after the ordeal was over."

"Dr. Littin.....well, I suppose he will have to do. Have you any reservations about requesting his services?"

"I have reservations about all doctors. He will do just fine."

"Oh...very well."

Holmes selected the connection for Dr. Littin and glanced worriedly at Hugh. Though the coughing fit had subsided, he was still rather pale.

"I am just exhausted."

Holmes frowned but did not reply. He looked to see if the connection had been made with doctor.

Hugh stooped down, picking up the dropped electric violin.

"Hardly like the real thing. Doesn't suit you skills in the slightest bit."

Holmes cast a quick glance at the boy. "Hmm...what? Oh. No, I daresay it does not. I positively infuriating contraption. Quite unworthy of it's given occupation.....where is that blasted doctor?"

Hugh smiled at Holmes's frustration.

Dr. Littin appeared on the screen, "Yes?"

"Why, Dr. Littin! I must wonder at the life expectancy of your patients in consideration of the lack of attention you apply to your emergency communication devices. We are in need of your questionable services at once. How quickly can you arrive?"

Dr Littin looked rather worse for ware.

"I have some paperwork that need immediate attention. Even now with traffic it would take twenty minutes. Thirty minutes, I will hurry. I will send a nurse if looks to be longer."

Holmes swore under his breath. "Paperwork? Very well. But do make an effort to arrive within the allotted time period. The paperwork, I am certain, will not object to waiting."

Holmes disconnected the communication and turned to Hugh.

"Are you feeling any better? Perhaps you should go and lie down."

Hugh responded after a while of absent mindedly staring at the electronic violin.

"Yes, I should rest."

Indeed. I will inform you when, 'if', Dr. Littin arrives. Is there anything you wish me to get you?"

"No, I'm fine. Fine."

Holmes watched the boy carefully as he left the room. He truly did look ill. He checked his watch. It had been ten minutes already. He began pacing as quietly as possible, so as not to disturb Hugh.

Hugh soon returned.

"It's no use... I just feel restless."

Holmes ceased his pacing. "Well, then......"  
He trailed off. Unsure of what to tell the boy, he resumed walked about the room.

"I think we both need some tea. If you don't relax soon you may start acting like my mother."

Holmes stiffened, obviously irked by this accusation. Suddenly he laughed aloud.

"I fear your observation, however mortifying, is an astute one. Tea, I think, would be a splendid idea."

Hugh smiled, "I'm glad to see you can take a joke."

"Hmmm...indeed. As Watson is still at his inspection at the Yard, I suppose I must do the honors." He replied and headed for the kitchen.

"Do inform me if that incompetent excuse for a practitioner ever sees fit to arrive."

"Your charming when your angry. He'll be here in a few minutes. I'm sure of it." Hugh spoke following Holmes the kitchen and smiled when he finished.

"It's a control maneuver. If one never alters ones' tone, no one can discern ones' true emotions. One should never allow the inside to effect the outside." Holmes answered in lecture-like manner.

Lifting two small boxes from the cupboard shelf, he inspected each carefully, made a choice and returned the other to it's proper place.

"As for Dr. Littin, I would place no faith, money, or any other form of dependancy upon his point of advent."

"I already knew about control. You of all people need control. If you didn't you might try to strangle some of the criminals you pursue."

There was a knock on the door as the water for the tea began to heat up.

Holmes turned round as if comment on Hugh's remark, but instead went to answer the door.

"Would that it were our dear physician." He said quietly, and swung the door open.

"Sorry for being so late Mr. Holmes."

The man looked rather tired, still he went forward with his visit. Placing a plastic medical box on a table. He proceed as Hugh's guardian watched over the procedures. Checking his breathing, heart beat, temperature and asking a never ending stream of questions about Hugh's symptoms.

After less then half an hour he announced his findings, "I'm afraid Hugh has pneumonia. The best I can do is prescribe antibiotics and suggest rest with some light exercise for two weeks. Also I would suggest adding lemon juice to what he drinks once and a while. I find it can be quite helpful."

Holmes raised an eyebrow but did not comment on the proposed remedy. "Very well doctor, we shall abide by your instructions. Is the illness overly dangerous?"

It can kill if it gets worse. At this stage the infection is small and can easily be dealt with. I will come back tomorrow to check on him. Till then I will give him a powerful injection of antibiotics to fight off the infection. The prescription won't be available till tomorrow even if you went for it now."

Dr Littin did as he said, after the injection he handed Sherlock Holmes a piece of paper with the prescription written on it. He said his good byes and left.

Holmes looked over the recommended medicine before slipping it into his side pocket.

"Where on earth could you have contracted such an ailment?"

"You seem to forget young people such as myself are more susceptible to to illness then someone your age physical age. Also I have been having trouble sleeping and eating. My immune system must have been too weak to fight the infection before it moved to my lungs."

"Indeed. You must keep in mind that it has been quite some time, a great expanse of time since I have been or have been in constant close proximity with a child." Holmes answered while handing Hugh a cup of the freshly brewed tea.

"As you are to be resting quietly, I believe I shall retire to my room. Be sure to let me know should you require any assistance." He said, taking his synthetic violin from the chair.

"Thank you." Hugh looked at the cup of tea silently for moment thinking. He felt a growing irritation deep down inside. Suddenly he had a fit of spasmodic coughing.

The sound of the instrument striking the floorboards echoed throughout the room. Holmes was instantly at Hugh's side, trying to help him sit up.

Hugh felt Holmes trying to help him. He tried to keep the coughing under control. Something else deep inside formed. It felt like electricity burning running through his veins like lightning. The feeling was followed by a blinding flash and loud electrical pop.


	3. Chapter 3

Hugh was no longer coughing for some reason. Also he seamed bigger. Hugh looked to side and found himself looking at his body, coughing. The coughing wasn't as bad as it had been. Not that it matter at the moment.

"Mr. Holmes?"

Holmes was in no condition to proffer an immediate response. The moment he had touched Hugh a vicious shock of electricity had struck his body. He'd felt himself falling, as he he should never stop. Then as if a marionette on a string he was snapped upward and back only to find himself lying on the floor, coughing violently. When the coughing subsided, he looked down at his hands in a state of semi-shock.

They were not his hands.

They were a great deal smaller. He turned to locate Hugh and found himself staring up at himself. Only, it wasn't himself.

"Hugh..." He stopped and clutched his throat. That was not his voice either.

"Hugh," He said again, attempting to ignore his dilemma. "I fear something of dire consequence has presently occurred."

Hugh nodded, "This... This has to be magic."

Holmes slowly surveyed his, or rather Hugh's body. He felt strangely tight, as if this particular form was a size too small.

"I am not inclined to agree with you. This....situation, has the distinct feel of a result of science."

He looked back up."How do you feel?"

What had been said by Hugh was not so much from belief as shock. It him few seconds to reply.

"I feel as thought I'm room that's bigger then I am. Even though in this body the world is so much... Larger."

Holmes coughed slightly. "My sensation is precisely the opposite." He rose from the floor, using the chair arm for support.

"What on earth could have caused such a reaction?"

"I may have a clue as to what. Earlier today my class was visiting a power plant and experienced the same sensation that occurred when the changed occurred. I was reading a note from Deidre and I crashed into the glass sheild for the electrical generators. The lights went out. The generator stopped functioning all together."

"And you think this may be the cause." Holmes walking somewhat shakily to the mirror in his bedroom. It was unbelievable. He moved his right hand back and forth. He 'was' Hugh. His natural body appeared behind him in the reflection. And Hugh 'was' Holmes.

"Would you happen to know the name of the scientist or doctor in charge of that particular generator? Perhaps he might know something of this."

Hugh looking in the mirror shook his or rather Holmes's head, "Yes, Lucas Smith, he's an engineer at the plant."

"Ah, good. We must contact him immediately. Perhaps he can be of assistance." Holmes went to the computer in search of Dr. Smith's contact information.

"It seems we've spent our entire evening searching for doctor's." He stated with a small cough. Finding that which he sought, Holmes send a message requesting that the doctor contact him at his earliest convenience.

"Are you feeling well, Hugh? No peculiar side effects at present?"

"Only the side effect of beinging overwhelmed by how tall you are. I wasn't sitting next to you at the computer I might be in peril of falling over you. Are you okay? Your in the worst position of all beinging in my sickly body. Perhaps you should lay down until we reach Lucas?"

Hugh felt a sudden concern...

"I left a private communication from a friend in my pocket... Could you be so kind as to give it to me? It's suppose to be for my eyes only."

Holmes looked back at Hugh, finding it difficult to look stern with the features of a thirteen year old*.

"Oh?" He said, reaching into the side pocket of Hugh's coat. "And just who might your correspondent be?"

Hugh found it hard not to turn red at the thought of the person he was corresponding to, "Deidre..."

Holmes looked down at the folded paper in his hand. With a somewhat mischievous smile he held it out to Hugh.

"Deidre, eh?"

Hugh reached for the note.

"Yes, there is nothing wrong with having a girlfriend."

Holmes' smile vanished. "I don't recall saying there was. I merely found it to be...intriguing...your choice of companion."

"Then must not have worked out my facial expressions. Anyway, I thought you might disprove."

Holmes laughed quietly. "Yes, I suppose it is rather peculiar to watch your face bearing my expression. I disapprove not at all. In fact, if I may go so far, I should say she rather suits you."

Hugh looked rather shocked now.

"You never stop surprising me."

Hugh knelt down and hugged Holmes, or rather Holmes in Hugh's body.

Holmes cleared his throat uncomfortably. He had not been embraced by a figure larger than himself in a very, very long time.

"Yes well, I would be an extremely dull companion should I be perfectly predictable."

"I know, I'm sorry that I made the supreme error of seeing you as wild, unknown factor. Also I've lied to you and fail to tell you something. Three weeks ago I hunted down a thief and reported him to New Scotland Yard. I received a reward of ten thousand credits."

Some how Hugh managed to make Holmes's face look more ashamed.

"Also I may know where I received the bacterial infection."

Holmes blinked twice as if registering this sudden spout of information. "Why would you not tell me of your reward?"

"I didn't want to get in trouble for not telling you that I was investigating crime by myself."

Holmes coughed and sat down before the unlit fireplace.

"Hugh, I am not your father, I will never be your father. Therefore I do not wish to treat as if you are my child. What you do with your life, whether wise or foolhardy, is none of my concern. I will not hinder you...though I should be grateful to at least be told."

Hugh stood and seated Holmes's body in a chair opposite. "Thank you." Hugh was glad of that but hated the feeling of being farther apart.

Hugh cleared his or rather Holmes's throat.

"I'll try to tell you in future."

"I would be most appreciative. Now, you said-" Holmes' sentence was cut short by a vicious coughing fit that was slow in subsiding. He leaned back against the chair attempting to regulate his breathing.

"You...said you might know...from whence came the...infection?"

"Yes, I've been researching the differences between this reality and mine and discovered something that was found in my reality and has been forgotten and lost in this one. A world war two bunker known, that is would be known if the documents hadn't been destroyed sixty years ago during world war three, as Paddock."

"And how does this relate to the bacteria?"

"It hasn't been opened for more then one hundred and fifty years. It's common knowledge such a place if it isn't permitted to air out for too long there is a build up of germs and bacteria. When opened the contaminated air rushes out to who ever is there."

"Certainly, but exactly how would you have come into contact with such an infected atmosphere?"

"I went in to Paddock."

Holmes sat up abruptly. "You went inside the building? Why Hugh? Did you not know it had been sealed?"

"Yes, I did. I went in to salvage the bunker for in case I ever need to hide."

Holmes sighed heavily. "And you think the bacteria in this enclosure is that with which your body is infected?"

"Yes, I do. I'm sorry... I should have waited."

"It is no longer of any consequence." Holmes said with a wave of his hand. "Do not blame yourself, I'm sure Dr. Smith will have some remedy."

For the body switching probably. It's unlikely he can help with my illness or rather my bodies illness."

"If he is a competent physician he should my able to at least pinpoint the infecting disease. Perhaps he will know of a specialist."

"Well, he's an engineer, not a medical doctor."

Holmes turned to face Hugh. "Oh? Then what would he know of physical situations? How do you suppose he will prove of any worth in our present unlikely circumstances?"

"I told you what he was before. My body's illness must be effecting you mind. You may be getting worse. I should call Dr Littin back."

Holmes looked slightly confused. He did not recall Hugh telling him any such thing. Yet that was not what most concerned him.....the name Littin was not a familiar one.

"Littin?"

Hugh was at the video screen calling Dr. Littin,"Stay where you are. Don't move. When I'm done I'll put you in my room."

Dr Littin appeared on the screen, he Dr Littin's face became grim as soon as he saw Hugh/ Holmes's face.

"Is Hugh alright?"

"No, he's getting worse. You must come over immediately."

Dr. Littin nodded, "I'll be there as fast as I can."

The screen went blank, Hugh turned from it to Holmes. He rushed to his side to see how he was fairing.

Holmes lay back in the chair, eyes closed, breathing lightly. He felt distant. As if he were once again outside himself. He could hear his own voice speaking but could not understand the words being spoken. He bolted upright at Hugh's touch.

"Hugh! What....to whom was I speaking?" He said before lying back down.

Hugh shook his head and helped Holmes to stand up. "You've been talking to me. It's time to rest."

Holmes struggled to remember. "No, I...." He trailed off while attempting to remain standing. Bits and pieces of their earlier conversation were returning.

"Hugh, what did you find in the Paddock?"

"Not a lot, old machines, crumbling paper..." Hugh was trying to guide Holmes to Hugh's room, but he was having trouble staying on his feet. It took a long few minutes before they got there.

Holmes collapsed onto Hugh's bed. The entire room was spinning wildly. Taking his head in his hands, he forced himself to concentrate.

"We must discover with what bacteria this body is infected. The doctor...what was his name...Littin...he should...is it contagious? Perhaps you should remain elsewhere lest we both contract this ailment.

Hugh shoved aside books and notes that littered Hugh's bed. "It shouldn't be and I can't leave you alone in this condition. I need to find soem way to return you to your body in case the illness gets worse."

Holmes grasped Hugh's wrist with more strength than he knew he possessed.

"No. If the illness is fatal you must not return...you can't. What if they find a way..." He suddenly felt light-headed and fell back against the pillow.

"Mr. Holmes!", Hugh could do little as Holmes lost consciouness. Hugh felt for a pulse, checked his breathing. He sighed, Dr. Littin will be here soon. Hopefully he stop what is happening.


	4. Chapter 4

Paddock is a real place and is was lost for a time.

* * *

Chapter Four

The setting was what in Holmes's own reality been the Sussex cottage he retired to, except the furniture was different two couches facing each other, a large vase in a plastic case that was being used like a side table and a Christmas tree. The room was littered with pictures, some of which went back as far as the nineteenth century. Two Hugh's were sitting on one couch and Holmes was seated on the other couch.

"Welcome, I'm Hugh's subconsciousness. He's Hugh's consciousness. Don't mind him. He's a little busy right now."

Holmes stared down at his hands...they were his own once again.

I must be dreaming, he thought. Memories of falling unconscious in Hugh's body flooded into his mind. He turned to his hosts.

"What is the meaning of this?"

"There is no meaning. I just wanted to talk to you before I switch you back to your body. Oh, I should warn you though, I'm not very skilled a tact when it comes to face to face communication. I guess that's why the magic book liked talking to me."

Holmes mind was reeling in attempts to piece all of this together. Only one thought remained intact.

"Is the illness fatal?"

"Possibly, there is a thirty-seven percent chance of it being fatal. The odds should improve once the proper mind is in the right body. Then I will have better chance of my magic working to help heal my body."

Holmes sighed. This was either a dream, a hallucination, or he was unwittingly the victim of some strange hoax.

"What do you want with me?"

I'll start with telling you why I switched bodies. Then, which is why we are in this setting, you will get to experience an event that keeps my conscious self from letting go of the past and his reality. Which is more important then you may realize."

Holmes did not reply. He felt no reason to. Perhaps if he ignored it, this apparition would depart.

Instead he rose from the couch and surveyed his surroundings.

"I'm not going to leave. Anyway my conscious self's lack of interest in his health reduced my telepathy. Eventually I was too weak, switching bodies strengthened the link."

Holmes turned back to face the strange being.

"Very well, I will suppose that what you say is the truth...for the time being. Now, what is it you stand to gain by this conversation?"

"For one to tell you that Moriarty will in the future will try to do more then just placing criminal intent in other people with his machine. He will try to switch bodies either with magic or technology so he can continue his criminal empire. He will try this once he discovers his body his degrading."

Holmes returned to the couch, the mention of Moriarty enough to reclaim his waning interest.

"How can you know this?"

"The book of magic chose to give me a few abilities. Telepathy, precognition, advanced magic control and some resistance to magic as well."

"These are Hugh's abilities as well? Or only yours?"

"I am Hugh, I'm just a deeper part of him. we share this abilities. I'm just managing them until he's had time to grow and move on with his life."

I see. Then, Hugh will never return to his own time?"

"It's not a matter of never as can't. He was removed from his own time line and reality for his and his families safety. If he stayed the hoodlums who Hugh retrieved the book from would have sought to remove the Holmes family in Hugh's reality for good. A lot of innocents and family would have been killed in the process. Here there is far less danger even with Moriarty."

Holmes turned away from his host. He had hoped so fervently that Hugh would someday be able to return to his own time. Not because he held any dislike for the boy, but because he knew how difficult it could be to live in a time and place that was not your own.

"What do you wish me to do?"

"There is not much you can do to be fair. Letting me be is the best you can do. Despite the way my conscious self took what you said, it's exactly what my father would have done."

The subconscious Hugh reached behind the couch and pulled out a sparkling blue electric violin.

"As for fathers my conscious self, if he doesn't learn to put the past behind, then things could get worse. Right now the odds are sixty percent chance once he wakes up and recovered some he may relapse. In that case it could be fatal. Forty percent chance he'll find a solution to his problem. Ten percent he will run away."

"What can I do to assist him?"

"My conscious self probably won't care for food, probably will refuse to take the medication. My suggestion is tea. Do as the doctor said, water or tea with lemon. This could buy sometime. What I've brought you here for will help too."

"And precisely what is this reason for my presence?"

"My conscious self is having trouble moving on with living. Sure, we've made a good try at it, but past is dragging him down. He as become consumed by the past. By sharing this event this may aid to his recovery. I'll make sure that once you change bodies he will believe he told you himself."

"Wait." Holmes requested. "Before you show me this, I would much prefer that the disease be confined to myself rather than the boy. Is this possible?"

The subconscious version of Hugh looked rather surprised,"I can do this. I suppose it would be less lethal in an adult. You would have a seventy-seven percent chance of recovery. I guess..."

Holmes leaned forward eagerly. "My thoughts precisely. If their was someway that this illness could be transferred to myself simultaneously to my own return, perhaps the danger would be lessened. I do not wish for the boy to endure any more than is absolutely necessary. He has dealt with quite enough of late. And I do not foresee his life becoming any less tumultuous in the future."

"Very well. Just tell the doctor that you were with him at Paddock or he'll think he as a epidemic on his hands. I'll arrange it so it will look as though antibiotic killed the infection."

While he said this he place the violin on the couch.

"I should warn you first that you won't just be seeing and hearing. There will be touch, smell taste... You will feel the pain I felt, the cold..." Then he smiled, "On the plus side my mother could cook very good. I think you'll enjoy the cupcake she made before the event in question. Bye."

The two Hugh's vanished and Holmes was in the form of a seven year old Hugh Ibuka Holmes.


	5. Chapter 5

As you can image switching bodies on Hugh and Holmes is confusing enough. Now Holmes is experiencing Hugh's past! Enjoy.

* * *

Chapter Five

Seven year old hands held a sparkling blue electric violin. Playing note after note with enthusiasm for the tune he was playing. He stopped to check the time and…

"Dan! Oh bloody he…"

"Watch it! You are far too young to say such a word." A voice, female, obviously American spoke up from the left passage. Linda Holmes appeared briefly around the corner. "Now what are you so worked up about?"

"I have to meet Dan by the bridge at eleven. It's already 10: 43."

Hugh was already placing the violin in its case when his mother spoke up.

"Before you leave I have something for you and Dan in the kitchen."

Hugh was already rushing from the room as she said this to dress the cold of Sussex in winter. This only took a few minutes to put on his favorite blue coat, gloves and boots. Hugh was standing in the kitchen five minutes later excepting two cup cakes from his mother, who requested him to return by 12:30 to help with the cooking. Being that his father was going to be in London until 1pm.

"Mum…"

"Hugh, you wish to tell me something?"

Hugh shyly spoke up; he placed the sup cakes on the counter, taking a note from his pocket. "It's dad… About Dan and his father."

"Whatever is in the note can wait till you father comes home."

"No! I mean… I don't know if I can say it. It's just so hard to tell someone the truth."

His mother sighed and kneeled, "It will get easier with time."

Hugh nodded, leaving the note with his mother he took the cup cakes, his mother opened the door to the snowy world outside and Hugh took off across the downs.

It took Hugh fifteen minutes to reach the bridge over an ancient aqua ducted. Dan was waiting, leaning dangerously over the side of the bridge watching a piece of debris float by as pieces of ice followed closely behind.

"Dan!"

Dan shot to his feet as if someone was about to leap upon him. The older boy, clearly eleven was taller then Hugh and spoke with a educated tone though he looked far from educated, his brown hair a mess and face hadn't been washed for days.

"Hugh, you oughta not scare your mates like that. Hey, is that for me?"

"Yes, my mum made it for me to give to you." Hugh held the chocolate cup cake up to Dan. Dan promptly took the cup cake and consumed it rather messily, leaving a brown mess around him in the snow. Hugh ate his frugally while they talked about a number of subjects such as how was school, the trouble Dan usually got into, usually is wasn't his fault. A sad fact Hugh knew all too well was that Dan had been a scapegoat for the local boys for the last five years since his mother killed herself. After that he regularly had bruises that he and his father clamed were made by his fighting other boys. Hugh knew better then that, the bruises were always too big and usually about Dan's chest, shoulders and legs in areas that were almost always hidden by clothes. Only a few days ago Hugh was one for himself just after his family had arrived in Sussex for the Holidays and that bruised had mark not all that dissimilar from a ring that Danial Furthe's father wore.

Hugh bided his time, not that he knew when to tell Dan what he had to say. Dan was convinced by his father that what he did to him was out of love because his mother was bad and so Dan was bad. Dan believed he had to be kept in line with severity or the world would crumble about him like cup cake had only a few minutes ago.

Hugh was no longer able to wait patiently.

"…and She just wouldn't let go of my ar.."

"Dan!"

Dan stopped still grinning about the incident that he spoke of, "I'm almost finished."

"This can't wait! I know. I know… You told me in the past to leave this alone and told me to mind my business but I can't. I'm going to tell Dad about what your father is doing to you cause hitting you is wrong. He'll go to jail, but then you can be with a family that won't hit you. They'll feed you better t…"

Dan the whole time, at first still happy, then blank followed by a build up of emotion that was followed by his punching Hugh full force in the side of the head. Hugh fell and rolled beside the bridge, stunned, trying to recover himself. He could hear Dan coming, he felt Dan kneeling over him, punching him over and over. Hugh struggled to think through the barrage of hatred. He reached out around himself feeling for something, he felt something rough, he grabbed the object and swung the rock into Dan's right eye and brow followed by a gash across the left brow. Dan held his trying to stand, stumbling, falling into the aqua duct and vanished from sight.

Hugh lay stunned for a minute before at happened registered. He sat up calling for Dan, he got to his hands and kneels, sliding down into the aqua duct he swam in the currents direction. It was too cold though and Hugh couldn't think clearly though the pain. He struggled to the side, pulling himself up and out he wandered across the countryside towards his home. His mind was a blur as the cold numbed his mind and senses. After a while Hugh met the hard surface of a door, he struggled for the door knob. He began to knock at the door franticly. He fell to his knees, to the side and onto his back. His mind began to sink into fuzzy darkness just before his mother opened the door.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Holmes felt the sickening sensation of rising rapidly. The blackness surrounding his mind began to slowly fade away. After a vicious struggle to grasp consciousness, he was finally able to open his eyes. He closed them again, the sharp pain in his head making him slightly nauseous. The events of the past few hours began to fall into place in his tangled memories. Hugh. Holmes bolted upright, looking about him for the boy.

Hugh was in bed resting, Dr. Littin was taking his vitals carefully. So much so he hadn't noticed Holmes's reaction.

Holmes jumped from his bed, ignoring his slight lack of balance, and went to stand aside Hugh.

"Will he recover?" He asked somewhat hoarsely.

"He shows all signs of the antibiotic having worked. He just seems to be tired and in need of a good meal when he wakes. I would suggest letting him sleep."

The doctor stood facing Holmes and began to scan him with a flashing piece of medical equipment.

"You on the other hand will need a shot of antibiotic as well. Odd, the bacteria isn't contagious. I take it you've gotten the same bacteria from the same place."

Holmes backed away from the doctor, still somewhat disoriented by the past occurrence which he had subconsciously witnessed. He turned once again to the sleeping child.

"Yes, yes of course." He finally replied with a dismissive wave of his hand.


	6. Chapter 6 Part 1

Chapter Six

The boy pressed his face against the chilly window pane. His bright blue eyes ardently searching the snow covered road for any sign of the long awaited carriage.

He sighed heavily and swept a wayward lock of blonde hair from his sight. He'd been standing here for nearly two hours. Childish impatience now threatened to be his undoing.

"He'll be here, don't you worry." Came a lilting female voice from across the room.

The boy spun round to face the middle-aged maid who was in the process of straightening several Christmas tree ornaments.

"I know Marta....but waiting is such a horrid business." He complained, turning back to view the winter wonderland outside.

The dark haired woman stepped over to the window and gazed out with the boy.

"It shan't be long."

"There might've been a railway accident. The carriage harness could've been incorrectly fastened. The roads are very wet, the horses-"

His tirade of ill thoughts was brought to an abrupt halt by Marta slapping his arm somewhat roughly.

"Don't you even be thinking such things! Your brother can take good care of himself, and if he said in his letter than he'd be here on Christmas Eve, then he'll be here. So don't you be hexing his journey with your wicked musings."

The boy smiled knowingly in spite of his fears. "You are far too superstitious, Marta. You know what Mother said about you reading those books by that madman Collin de Plancy."

She gave him a look of utter innocence. "Why I haven't picked one up in weeks!"

He laughed quietly. "Nonsense. You've been reading them until quite late. The creases around your eyes are abnormally abundant. Twice this morning at breakfast you were so absent minded that you didn't hear mother calling. You've taken a fresh candlestick with you every night to bed for at least the past two weeks."

The woman began sputtering denials.

"Don't lie, Marta." The boy said with a raised hand. "You've a copy of his latest work of nonsense in your side pocket beneath your dusting cloth at this very moment."

"Well!" She said indignantly, exiting the sitting room. "If your mother wasn't a God fearing woman I'd say you was possessed yourself!"

The boy smiled as if on the receiving end of a well earned compliment and continued his vigil.

Lunch time had come and gone unattended before the boy saw an oncoming speck at the far end of the drive. The speck soon evolved into a large and ornate carriage pulled by two great horses.

The child leapt from the window seat and ran down the hallway toward the front door, shouting all the way.

"Mother! Mother! He's here!"

In his state of immense excitement he ran directly into the tall, stiff form of his tutor.

The man caught the boy by the shoulders.

"Master Holmes! Whatever is the matter with you?"

"Mycroft has arrived, Mr. Raven! I saw his carriage coming up the drive!"

"That is no reason to fly about the house shrieking like an ill-bred gypsy. Calm yourself at once. Control is everything. Without it man is nothing but another animal."

"Yes sir."

"Very good." The man ran a hand through his wavy light brown hair and frowned deeply. "You say your brother had returned?"

Before the boy could answer, the sound of light footsteps upon the stair caused both occupants of the hallway to glance upward at the lovely woman coming down to meet them.

Glossy sable curls bouncing lightly as she descended. Her lavender colored eyes were bright with anticipation. Upon reaching the bottommost step the woman reached out to take the hands of her sons' tutor.

"Is it true, Lucias? Has he come already?"

"Yes, Violet. Come, let us go."

The boy gazed oddly upon his mother's countenance. She seemed almost worried. He placed his hand on her arm in a comforting gesture.

"He isn't hurt, Mother. I saw the carriage coming myself."

"No, of course not." She replied absently.

Forgetting the lecture of his instructor, the boy ran ahead of them and met his elder brother as he stepped from the vehicle.

"Mycroft!"

The portly young man embraced his sibling briefly. "And how is my brilliant apprentice?"

"So very glad that you have finally come. I was beginning to wonder if you'd be here before Christmas morning!"

The two adults arrived to greet the newcomer. Mycroft embraced his mother and clasped his old teacher by the hand.

"Very good to see you again, Mr. Raven. I wondered if I should find you still here. I suppose you simply can't find it in your heart to move on, you've been with us for such a time."

The boy thought he detected an almost hostile tone beneath his brother's greeting.

"Yes, I suppose I've become somewhat part of the family. How is the university?"

"Just fine thank, you." Mycroft looked about. "Where is Father?"

His younger brother's gaze fell. "In Paris....on business."

Mrs. Violet Holmes put an arm around her firstborn and his old tutor, leading them back toward the house. "He's never hear when he's needed, Mycroft, as well you know. But that shan't stop us from having a most wonderful holiday, just the four of us."

Mycroft glanced over her head at Raven, who smiled furtively.

"Yes, just the four of us."

* * *


	7. Chapter 6 Part 2

The great house was as silent as a tomb as the grandfather clock struck midnight. The boy jerked upright, awakened by the strident sound.

He looked out at the glistening snow upon the lawn, recalling the somewhat strained last few hours of the evening. For reasons unknown to him, Mycroft has seemed frustrated throughout the entire meal and had excused himself early.

Shortly after, both Raven and his mother had departed as well. Leaving the ten year old alone in the spacious dining room.

Having entirely lost his frequently poor appetite, the boy had run from the room, ignoring the protests of the servants.

He'd fled to his window with only Wilhelm Oswald's chemistry journal for company.

The large book slid suddenly from his lap onto the sitting room floor. Yawning sleepily, he parted the curtains of the window seat to retrieve the precious tome but halted mid-reach as the sound of nearing voices reached his ears.

He scarcely had ample time to close the curtains before the sitting room door was flung open to receive the boys' mother with Lucias Raven in tow.

They were both laughing breathlessly as if they'd just run a great length. Lucias took Violet's coat from her shoulders and threw it as well as his own upon the floor.

The woman collapsed into a chair near the dying fire and laughed once more. "You really are too wicked, Lucias!"

"Am I?" He said, leaning over her, his back to the curtained window seat.

Violet giggled. Leaping from her seat, she backed away toward the door. "You frighten me sir," She said with a playful tone. "I think I should leave."

He stepped closer to her and took her hands in his. "But you won't, and you know it."

Lucias Raven took Mrs. Violet Holmes in his arms and kissed her firmly. She finally broke away for air, but did not release him from her grasp.

"We must do something about this, my darling. If my husband should find out-"

"Or your meddling elder son."

"Or Mycroft, we could be seriously jeopardized. William Holmes is not a man to be trifled with. He will not take kindly to an unfaithful wife....or employee."

"Are you threatening me, madam?"

She laughed. "I'm thinking about it. If you don't absolutely promise that you adore me beyond all reason, I shall most certainly threaten you."

He pulled her closer to him. "In that case I shall have to make certain requirements, my dear. I should think that oh, one thousand pounds a year will keep me quite fastened to your side, without so much as a word to your lawful husband."

The woman jerked back suddenly as if she'd been shocked. "What exactly do you mean by that, Lucias?"

He shrugged. "William Holmes is a powerful man. I think I deserve some sort of recompense for remaining in so precarious a position, don't you, darling?"

"What are you saying!?"

"I cannot stay here with you, Violet. Not with Mycroft so near to guessing the truth. If our relationship is discovered, my career will be over. I'll never be able to secure another decent place. I can't risk such exposure. Though, if the risk were made worth the danger...."

Violet fell back against the wall, a look of sheer terror marring her lovely face. "You're....you're blackmailing me!"

He drew near her. "Not at all, Violet. I'm simply requesting a reason to allow this threat to remain over my head. You're beautiful my dear, but not so greatly so that I cannot find another."

"But...but you said that you loved me!"

"I do! I love you for your beauty, your wealth, your lands....but without one ingredient the mixture is often spoiled entirely."

She attempted to slap him but he grabbed her arm. "Let's not resort to violence, Mrs. Holmes. I would hate to harm you."

"You think yourself so very clever! To deceive me into believing that you loved me, to make me love you! I fear that you will find I am not so great a fool!"

Violet wrenched herself from his grasp and ran from the room in a flood of tears.

Lucias laughed quietly to himself, stepped over to the side table and poured a glass of brandy.

The forgotten child in the window seat fell back against the window pane, his heart beating so forcefully he feared it should betray his presence. He could not convince himself to believe that which he had just witnessed. His mother, nothing more than a harlot of the streets. She had betrayed his fathers' trust, she had betrayed her sons.

And Raven, the man who he had looked up to...regarded as a friend, as worthy of his trust. The boy buried his face in his hands, not hearing the small sob that escaped his trembling lips.

The tinkling sound of shattering glass caused him to lift his tear filled eyes just in time to see his tutor rip the protective curtains from their rings.

The man looked down upon the grief stricken boy with a look of utter contempt.

"You!" He whispered.

"I-" The boy received no chance to explain as he was yanked from his hiding place.

Raven stood him upright and shook him roughly by the shoulders.

"So you were listening, were you? Spying for your intrusive brother, no doubt! How much did you hear!?" He demanded.

The boy hesitated, unsure of his position. Unwilling to wait, the man's hand lashed out in anger and snapped the boy's head to the side.

"Answer me!"

"I didn't hear anything!" The child cried in fear.

"Liar!"

Raven struck the boy again and threw him to the ground.

"I'll teach you to spy on me!"

But before he could make another move, his adulterous lover reentered the sitting room. A feather pillow clutched tightly to her chest, a 4.5 caliber revolver shakily directed at Lucias Raven.

"You think that my love is so weak that it can be bought and sold. Lucias, I gave you my heart and soul! My honour! If you will not have it and be contented then you will have nothing!"

The woman took aim through the pillow and fired without giving the tutor a chance to plead for his life.

Lucias Raven jerked once before falling to the floor boards....dead.

* * *


	8. Chapter 6 Part 3

Only once her lover was dead, did Violet Holmes realize the presence of her youngest son.

The child stared at his mother in a state of pure shock. The world as he had known it, crashing down about him.

His mother's wild eyes searched the room for evidence of the crime. Snatching Raven's coat from the floor, she wrapped his body in it, hoping to stall the inevitable bleeding. She picked up the shards of his drinking glass and tossed them into the fireplace. Wiping the gun with the hem of her dress, Violet Holmes placed her murder weapon on the side table and turned to her ten year old child shivering on the floor.

"Did you see and hear everything?" She asked almost inaudibly.

"Yes."

"You saw me kill that man?"

"Yes."

"Did you hear him confess his deception?" Her voice rose with emotion.

"Yes."

She lowered herself beside him and reached out to touch his shoulder but he shrank away from her hand.

"What should I have done!? What else could be done!?"

"You murdered him." The boy whispered.

His mother took him by the shoulders and forced him to look at her. "Would you betray me? Will you run to your brother with my sins?"

He said nothing but she could clearly read the intention in his tearful eyes.

Breathing rapidly, Mrs. Holmes took from gun from the side table and wrapped the boy's fingers around it.

"They won't believe you, you know? They won't believe anything you say. They'll say that you discovered our true relations and murdered Lucias Raven yourself! It's been done before. They'll say you did it! They'll say you shot him in cold blood! They'll arrest you and you'll be sent to prison. Perhaps you wouldn't be hung, but I've heard that death is preferable to a life spent in prison."

The boy's eyes were wide with terror. His mother could see her purpose unfolding.

"Imagine what real criminals might do to a child so young......and there would be no Mycroft to stop them..."

He said nothing, though he visibly trembled at the images of such a life. His mother took his hand.

"So you can see that I'm only doing this for your protection. I couldn't bear to see you hurt anymore than you already have been. This is what we must do, and I'll help you, we'll take the body of the man that you murdered down to the lake. Between the two of us we should be able to manage the weight. If we fill his pockets with rocks then he'll stay at the bottom until it no longer matters. I'll tell Mycroft and your father than Mr. Raven was beginning to become far too attached to me and that I dismissed him for both our sakes. He left last night after dinner......are you ready?"

He could only nod, unable to speak a word.

Within an hour the task had been completed. The boy sat before the last embers of the sitting room fire, attempting to restore circulation to his hands which were numb and sore from digging rocks out of the frozen ground.

Mrs. Holmes had long departed to bed, leaving her son starring at the sparking coals until his eyes burned.

She had told him he should sleep, but he could not. The face of the dead man appeared the moment he attempted to close his eyes. He wondered if he would ever be able to sleep again. How he wished that Father had been here. If he had been here none of this would ever have happened. But Mother was right; he was never where he was needed most.

Sounds of the household's stirring could be heard just as the first fingers of dawn pierced the eastern sky.

The boy could hear the heavy footsteps of his elder brother pounding down the stairway. He wanted to tell Mycroft the truth, more than anything he wanted to tell him. But the pictures or horror that his mother had engraved into his childish mind prevented him from meeting his brother upon the stair and admitting everything.

The large young man entered the sitting room to find his little brother sitting before a cold fire, in only his shirtsleeves and trousers. He laughed.

"And how long have you been up? You'll never make it through services getting up so early!"

He sat down on the floor beside the boy, attributing the strange look in his blue eyes to nothing but exhaustion and overexcitement.

"Merry Christmas, Sherlock."


	9. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

A soft knocking sound interpreted the rooms silence in Holmes's bed room.

Hugh's voice filtered through the doors, "May I come in?"

Holmes turned away from the mirror after straightening his collar.

"Certainly."

Hugh entered carrying a tea tray, stopping short.

"I thought you had three days left we were both suppose to take three weeks rest for the illness."

Holmes sighed heavily. "My mind rebels at stagnation. I cannot remain entirely dormant for so great a period of time. And I trust that not even Dr. Littin could deem dressing too strenuous a task. How are you fairing?"

"Strangely, that same as I was day two, I feel as if I never was really sick. At the most I was tired. Now I'm not tired so much a bored."

Holmes repressed a laugh. "Well, what activity can you suggest? Inside the somewhat stern lines of our physicians' instructions, of course."

"I have an idea." Hugh placed the tea tray on the side table and left the room quickly. He came back less then a minute later with a wooden violin case. He brought the case to Holmes holding it out to him.

"I was saving this for Christmas, that changed after having a nearly three weeks to think about it. It's too much to expect you to miss the shop when your so unsatisfied with your current violin."

With a look of utter disbelief, Holmes took the preferred gift. Setting it gently down upon his desk, he lifted the lid and removed the violin and bow from their velvet lined resting place.

Eyes closed, Holmes positioned the instrument over his shoulder, pressed firmly upon the two foremost strings and slid the bow across the fret.

A hauntingly beautiful note resounded throughout the small bedroom.

Altering his finger position, Holmes began an exquisite piece that felt somewhat like Mendelssohns' entwined with pure improvisation.

The violin sang like a chorus of angels, sometimes in the throws rapturous elation, sometimes utter despair. Throughout his musical demonstration, the maestro never once looked away from his work.

It was a full hour before he again was conscious of another soul occupying his rooms.

Running his long fingers delicately down the musical implement, Sherlock Holmes returned it to it's protective case.

He turned to face Hugh, a light in his eyes that had been absent for some time.

"I have been quite lost without music." He said in a subdued voice. "I cannot adequately thank you."

"No need, I missed my own a great deal. It was electric though. The best I could do was buying another like yours for myself. It was in fact how I managed to buy a second."

Holmes arched an eyebrow. "They do not offer electric instruments at this store of yours? I should think in this age the acoustic would be the exception."

"Acoustics, yes, one that is at a reasonable price and doesn't weigh ten pounds or over sized, no."

Holmes laughed quietly. "I see."

He turned away from Hugh and went to stand before the bedroom's small window that looked out over the alleyways.

"Hugh...while you were...under the influence of Littin's prescription, did you...that is to say, were you...at all sentient?" He asked without turning around.

Hugh sighed. "All I remember are brief flashes of laying in my bedroom talking about Dan. And something about your mother murdering your tutor. The rest is a blank."

Holmes stiffened quite noticeably, but failed to respond.

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have mentioned it."

"No, no. You needn't apologize. It is odd thing to have ones' past suddenly placed before you. Truly I hadn't forgotten the entire incident."

"The same goes for me. I've been thinking about when I told the authorites the lie about it being an accident that occured while Dan and I played. I told my parents the same. I was going to tell them but I never got too. Now I never will."

Holmes turned to face him. "But it was an accident, Hugh. You had no murderous intentions. Perhaps you falsified the circumstances of your friends death, but it truly was unintentional."

"I was tactless when informing him of my reporting his father. The resulted in Dan's actions. I knew his father had warped and twisted the truth. That Dan thought his father acted out love and protection. In that alone I am partly responsible. The rest was nothing I could about."

"You were a child. Having been reared by...loving parents, you could not possibly have foreseen the consequences of your actions. Was the boys' father still living when you were last in Sussex?"

"No, he went to jail. He turned out to be drug smuggler. That's why he was trying to control his son so much. To keep him from becoming a threat."

Hugh walked across to the tea tray checking the pot of tea he brought it, it was still a little warm.

"Theres a reason I admitted to lying about Dan to you."

"Oh?"

"We live separate lives and we choose let the other be and do as they choose to do with their lives. Despite that you are my only parent now, Father."

If Holmes was uncomfortable with this sudden reference to paternity, he did not make it known. He placed his hand on the boys' shoulder.

"If ever I were to have a son, Hugh, I would pray that God would grant him the strength which you so abundantly possess. You do me a great honour in what you say."

Holmes moved to the tea tray and poured two cups. In a playful tone he added, "Though I am not entirely certain that you will be quite satisfied with my familial instincts."

Hugh smiled, "There could be far worse parents in the world. Moriarty for example."

Holmes laughed aloud at the prospect. "You have an excellent point, my boy. The art of domesticity is most certainly not the Professors' area of proficiency. Though neither would I lay claim to it either, I should surpass his abilities at least."

"Most parents don't have a clue as to what their doing. I think your futher ahead then you'll ever realize."

Holmes made a slight bow. "I thank you for your confidence. I must admit I never expected to hold such a position."

Hugh looked to the window thoughtfully, "Nither did I."

The End


End file.
